Thanksgiving
by Rocksalt Rifle
Summary: The boys celebrate Thanksgiving their own way. Fullmetal Alchemist/Supernatural mash-up.


On Tuesday they had faced down a displaced banshee who had somehow ended up in Wisconsin. It hadn't been a particularly tough job, all things considered, but Ed was pulling cotton out of his ears for the rest of the day, complaining the entire time. Al for the most part ignored him.

"We should swing by Bobby's for Thursday," he said abruptly, taking a turn-off that pointed them toward Dakota.

"Thursday?" Ed repeated.

"It's Thanksgiving, Ed," Al said dryly. "It's not like we have anything else to do."

Ed seemed satisfied with that and sat back in his seat. "We should get a bird," he said speculatively.

And that was how Bobby found them, early Thursday morning, Ed with a large turkey slung over one shoulder and Al with two twelve-packs of beer. "Happy Thanksgiving," Al said, way too brightly for the crack of dawn.

Bobby squinted at them. "What in tarnation are you two doin' here?"

"We brought dinner," Ed said.

Bobby stared at him through the door. "You brought a damn _bird_?"

Al looked perplexed. "Is there a problem with that?"

Bobby let them in and led them to the kitchen, which was filthy. The only clean spots were the table, where Bobby obviously used space to lay out books and a part of the counter where he prepared his meals.

Ed carefully put the bird on the table. "I don't think we thought this through," he said.

"No, I don't think ya _did_," Bobby snorted.

"Do you have _books_ in your _oven?_" Al's voice rose in incredulousness as he opened the door to peer inside. He shuddered once and let the door snap shut, before looking over at Ed. "This might call for drastic measures."

"I dun't know how to cook no damn fancy store-bought bird," Bobby said, accepting the placating beer and watched Al flip out his cell phone and scroll through the contact list.

Ed peeked into the oven, overcome with curiosity as to what books Bobby would store in the oven, before looking over at Al. "Who're you calling?"

"Winry," Al said absently.

Ed straightened in horror. "WHAT?"

"She knows how to cook - I think - and I don't think Sarah particularly wants to hear from us at the moment," Al said reasonably, then brightening as someone picked up the other end of the phone. "Winry, hi! This is- yeah, I know you know who - sorry, sorry, yeah I know-"

Ed leaned over and shot Bobby a look with both eyebrows up. Bobby shrugged. Ed looked around, then hiked a thumb outside. "You got any firewood?"

Al looked at his cell phone. "She hung up on me!"

"She was kinda pissed that you, I don't know, tied her to a pole," Ed pointed out before disappearing out the door.

"That wasn't really my fault," Al said, getting his kicked dog look going.

"With luck, she won't get over it," Ed called from outside.

"What is he doing?" Al asked, looking at Bobby.

Bobby took a long swig of his beer. "Building a fire pit outside on my lawn."

Between Ed and Al they had a fire going in about ten minutes, then they raided Bobby's grill, hosed it down and dropped it over the fire. Ed hoisted the bagged turkey outside, then dropped it on the grill before Al could stop him.

"Ed!" Al shouted, having gone inside for a beer. "You have to take the giblets out!"

"The what?" Ed looked at the turkey sitting cockeyed on the grill.

"The - oh, for fuck's sake!" Al went and got tongs, dragging the grill off the fire and poking at the turkey. "You left the neck in and everything!"

"There's stuff INSIDE?" Ed stared at the bird. "I thought it was just, like, stuffing."

Al stared at Ed, then pointed the tongs at him. "Back away from the fire," he said. "I will take care of this. Go get a plate or something so I don't dump all this crap out all over the grass."

Ed passed Bobby by, who had dragged a lawn chair out and was now sitting, watching them with a beer in hand and an amused expression on his face. "Best entertainment I've had all week," he said.

The sun had long since set by the time Al pulled the turkey off the fire. The more beer Ed had had the better an idea it was to keep him away from the fire, since he had gotten a long stick and nearly upset the turkey twice.

Al made Bobby attempt to carve the beast, but when he cut into it the outside was crunchy and the inside wasn't quite done yet.

Ed threw another stick into the fire. "Fuck this," he intoned. "I'm going to go get some Chinese."

*

Thanksgiving dinner was then eaten around Bobby's now-cleaned off table out of boxes. Bobby jabbed his chopsticks at Al. "The next time you get a damn fool idea about cookin', take it somewhere else."

Ed emptied a box of rice and grabbed another. "I've had worse Thanksgivings," he said pragmatically.

"Yeah," Bobby said softly. "Me too."

-fin-


End file.
